It's time to get something off my chest, guys: I love Gossip Girl.

But Madeline! you exclaim, probably choking on a biscuit and dropping your teacup because you are one refined gentleman or lady, didn't you write a scathing review of the first Gossip Girl back in 2008 where you ranked it below goddamn Twilight on the scale of Books That Should Not Be Considered Books?

Ah yes, my little blueberries, how right you are. Gossip Girl, the book, is pulpy badly-written trash that fails to even fulfill the most basic requirement of trash lit - being interesting - after three books (I say authoritatively, having read eight of them in high school). But Gossip Girl, the show, is the motherfucking tits. It's the best kind of soap opera trash, and I spent a month last year ripping through four seasons on Netflix before I finally abandoned it when it reached what I considered to be the apex of its trashy-crazy-fun potential (if you're curios, it was that episode where Blair strikes a sex bargain in exchange for a hotel and paperwork was involved, and no, I did not make up or exaggerate a single word of that). I love the show because it's so weird and foreign it might as well be science fiction - the show is an in-depth look at a strange world with its own weird customs, rules, and language (and very pretty clothes). Like most people, I am fascinated by the obscenely wealthy and the tiny insulated world they inhabit, and Gossip Girl is a great outlet for that curiosity. There's even a episode in the show where the kids perform Age of Innocence at their fancy private school, so even the show is aware of the connection I'm making.

Age of Innocence is a better-written, better-plotted, probably better-acted version of Gossip Girl. It's about rich New Yorkers living their rich, socially restrictive lives and trying to convince themselves that they're happy in this absurdly structured society they've created for themselves, to the point where they'll deny their own happiness in order to maintain the status quo. And somehow, the fact that un-engaged couples aren't even allowed to kiss, much less have sex, made the romance elements that much more passionate.

Our main character here is Newland Archer, a wealthy young man who lives a charmed life: he's rich, is engaged to a wonderful girl, and believes that he understands the rules of the world he inhabits:

"In matters intellectual and artistic Newland Archer felt himself distinctly the superior of these chosen specimens of old New York gentility; he had probably read more, thought more, and even seen a good deal more of the world, than any other man of the number. Singly they betrayed their inferiority, but grouped together they represented 'New York,' and the habit of masculine solidarity made him accept their doctrine on all the issues called moral. He instinctively felt that in this respect it would be troublesome - and also rather bad form - to strike out for himself."

Things change, however, when Countess Ellen Olenska comes to New York. The daughter of a prominent family, she's returned to the United States after escaping an abusive husband. Society shuns her, and her family is mostly concerned with getting her to go back to her husband, but there's an instant and very palpable attraction between her and Archer. Suddenly, he starts seeing his entire well-structured world in a whole new light, including his previously-perfect fiancee May:

"She was frank, poor darling, because she had nothing to conceal, assured because she knew of nothing to be on her guard against...But when he had gone the brief round of her he returned discouraged by the thought that all this frankness and innocence were only an artificial product. Untrained human nature was not frank and innocent; it was full of the twists and defences of an instinctive guile. And he felt himself oppressed by this creation of factitious purity, so cunningly manufactured by a conspiracy of mothers and aunts and grandmothers and long-dead ancestresses, because it was supposed to be what he wanted, what he had a right to, in order than he might exercise his lordly pleasure in smashing it like an image made of snow."

Newland, in fact, starts questioning the entire damn system, and having some very unapproved and modern thoughts, most of which are too sensible to make an appearance on Gossip Girl:

"Newland reddened. 'Living together? Well, why not? Who had the right to make her life over if she hadn't? I'm sick of the hypocrisy that would bury alive a woman of her age if her husband prefers to live with harlots.'
He stopped and turned away angrily to light his cigar. 'Women ought to be free - as free as we are,' he declared, making a discovery of which he was too irritated to measure the terrific consequences."

Tragic, beautiful, dramatic, and scandalizing. I had so much more fun reading this than I expected to, and will definitely be looking up more Edith Wharton in the future. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go watch some more Gossip Girl. When I left off, Blair was dating a prince and Georgina had just lied about being pregnant with Dan Humphrey's baby.

There are many benefits to reading this beautifully written novel. For instance, if anyone ever asks you: "Who was the first women to win the Pulitzer prize?", you will not only know the answer, you will able to elaborate on it. This novel did win the Pulitzer Prize for literature in 1921 and boy did it deserve it.

It is set in a particular historical time and place (1870-ties, New York, the so called Glided Age) and it delivers a brilliant portrait of New York society of that time. The title of the book is said to be inspired by a rather well known painting titled Age of Innocence, but it might also be a reference to the author’s upbringing and childhood. Wharton was in her fifties when she had written this novel and that is, quite often, the time when we recollect our childhood. After all, childhood is an age of innocence. The author is both critically and nostalgically inclined when she describes this period she had grown up in. This creates a rather potent mix of emotions that contributes to the novel’s complexity.

Personally, this title always makes me think of William Blake and his Songs Of Age and Experience. Like Blake, Wharton is bringing her own experiences in this novel (following that write about what you know rule) and describing the things she has observed, for Wharton has grown up in this somewhat rigid) New York society she described so eloquently in this novel.


The beginning of the novel is pretty straightforward. We get introduced to the main characters fairly quickly. A young and successful lawyer Archer is to marry a beautiful young girl named May Wellend. They belong to the same up class society and everyone is very happy and anxious to see them married. However, the arrival of May’s notorious (notorious on account of being divorced, which was quite scandalous at the time) cousin will change everything. A few pages into this novel, I realized that the plot sounds familiar. I realized that I had seen the film adaptation. Well, coming to conclusion that there are worse things than seeing Michelle Pfeiffer's face in your mind as you turn the pages (Pfeiffer does have Ellen's delicate beauty), I kept reading.


I'm certainly glad that I did because I immensely enjoyed reading it. Inspite of knowing how it is going to end, I couldn’t help being sincerely moved by it. Strangely, it did not bother me at all that I knew how it's going to end. The novel was no less interesting because I had seen the film (which follows the plot quite accurately) and that says something about the novel. Perhaps it is not so strange that I found it moving despite learning the story before reading it. For one, this novel is so well written and with great attention to detail. In addition, the potrayal of characters is superb. It is not only about the story. It is one of those rare novels that manage to convey the very essence of being human. Both the tragedy and the beauty of it. In its immense analytical scope, it even reminded me of the great Russian novelist, Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy and Turgenev. Indeed, in its complexity this novel comes quite close to above listed great writers.


The Age of Innocence is not just about a love triangle or a love story. It is about the subtle pressures that society puts on individual. It is about innocence and about hope. Which of these two women represents these concepts? Perhaps both of them do, both for Archer and for themselves, just in different ways. Although the novel is often written in a light (sometimes even humorous) tone, it is actually surprisingly deep, subtly analytical and surprisingly profound. At times, it is even melancholically sad. The never-ending question about the conflict between freedom and duty is explored in an excellent way. The fact that the novel is elegantly funny makes it easy to read, but it is the philosophical undertones that are truly impressing. While reading, I was never bored, not for a second. I liked the description of New York Society. The author shows enough of the historical period to be interesting but she does not overdue it. The way Wharton creates characters is impressive, she does it so effortlessly. The characters are the stars of the book, realistic, thought trough- they really make sense and feel real.


The theme reminds me of another well-known classic, Henry James' The Potrait Of a Lady. However, I would not call them similar. When I remember the frustration I felt while reading The Portrait of a Lady, I must say that I didn't feel it when I was reading this one. Yet my sould felt tortured in a similar way. I did not have the desire to tell Ellen what to do (in a way I wanted to tell Isabel) or anyone else for that matter. Everything that happened was somehow expected and I could understand it...Not because the story is trivial, but rather the other way around, it is quite timeless because it captures the repetitive patterns in human behaviour.

Every action made sense in the context of character characterization. Their motivations were always on the point. They are what they are- and they can't help it. It's like watching the ancient Greek tragedies (whenever I consider some work of literature to be impressive, I always make this reference- I'm so predictable sometimes but yes I do still read and love ancient Greek tradegies and I see them as the spiritual parent of our modern literature). I mean in in the sense that you know how it is going to end, but you feel for the characters nevertheless. It takes a great writer to accomplish that. Someone who goes beyond being a simple story teller and Wharton has the complexity this kind of writing needs. I could make some other parallels to Henry James, because there seems to be this cultural clash between Europe (countess is American but she lived in Europe) and America. For example, I did feel a similar feeling of bad things bound to happen to Wharton's free spirited American protagonist as I did to all those Henry James' heroines. That's about where the similarity ends for me, for this novel is in many ways original.

As I repeated again and again in this view, the potrayal of characters is exceptional. Wharton simply has this way of revealing her characters that it makes it hard for a reader to judge them. Life is complex and this novel captures that perfectly- I do admire that in a writer. Finally I love the finishing line: "Say I'm old-fashioned: that's enough." This novel is truly a literature gem, it is in every sense of the world : enough. It is enough on its own to be considered a masterpiece, but read in the contex of Wharton's life and other writings, it is even more impressive. This is one of those classics that I can never get tired of. Quite possibly because it describes (as Jung put it- that final mystery) love so paintfully accuratedly:


“I couldn't have spoken like this yesterday, because when we've been apart, and I'm looking forward to seeing you, every thought is burnt up in a great flame. But then you come; and you're so much more than I remembered, and what I want of you is so much more than an hour or two every now and then, with wastes of thirsty waiting between, that I can sit perfectly still beside you, like this, with that other vision in my mind, just quietly trusting it to come true.”
― Edith Wharton, The Age of Innocence


True love is a potent and dangerious things. It wounds the soul, but somehow it also cures it.

I found this to be an enjoyable goodread. Lots of rich people in high-falautin’ society in the 1870s in New York City who look down their noses at each other and the lower classes.

I predicted accurately what the ending was going to be like when I was halfway through!

Tenho este livro desde a adolescência, uma altura em que as minhas principais leituras eram os clássicos, contudo apenas consegui ler este agora. E gostei muito do que li. As descrições da alta sociedade nova-iorquina, com as suas tradições e as suas peculiaridades, conseguiram transportar-me para um mundo em que, definitivamente, não teria gostado de viver, mas que me interessa muito, de uma forma curiosa. Newland, May e Ellen, e todas as personagens deste livro, são o resultado, mais ou menos falho, da sua época; as suas decisões não podiam ter sido diferentes.

Doba nevinosti je roman u kojem se analizira njujorško visoko društvo devetnaestog stoljeća. Društvene veze materijalnih i društvenih interesa, neukost i licemjerje, načela i kultura ponašanja, lijepo su stilski izneseni uz pomoć likova koji savršeno nose cijelu radnju. Prijateljstvo zaručenog Newlanda Archera i grofice Ellene Olenske, povratnice iz Europe, utječe na Newlandove stavove o društvu i životu općenito. Mijenja njega, a tako onda i one s kojma je usko povezan. Je li ta promjena bila na bolje ili na gore, sami morate provjeriti. Edith Wharton je za ovaj roman nagrađena Pulitzerovom nagradom.

Cijeli osvrt pronađite ovdje: https://knjige-u-svom-filmu.webador.c...

Into the grand, placidly self-satisfied world of New York Society in the 1870s comes a near-outsider, a woman born to an acceptable family but raised in Europe by an eccentric peripatetic aunt and now rumored to be estranged from her husband, a wealthy Polish count. Like a stone tossed into a still pond, Countess Ellen Olenska's arrival will send ripples across the silvery surface, moving ever outwards, while far below something deeper may stir and change.

"There was something perverse and provocative in the notion of fur worn in the evening in a heated drawing room, and in the combination of a muffled throat and bare arms; but the effect was undeniably pleasing."



When we see the Countess Olenska, it is through the eyes of Newland Archer, a young lawyer of excellent birth and acceptably respectable, boring and desultory occupation. The entire novel, written in 1920 but set almost entirely in the the 1870s, appears to be from Archer's point of view and much of the clever psychological tension stems from his limitations as an observer.

Archer is far from astute though he has flashes of intuition. He is very young, somewhat conflicted; he loves to read, he has traveled to Europe, he senses and sometimes rebels against the stultifying conventionality of his world and family; and yet he himself is bound by those conventions, a product--perhaps inescapably--of a particular place and time. Still, there is something kind about him, something honorable, something almost innocent. Thrown into close contact with the Countess he is (though he denies it to himself) aroused and drawn to her.



There is one more central character, and she is perhaps the most enigmatic. May Welland, the Countess Olenska's cousin, is a beauty, blithely innocent, still blind to the world and its realities as only the sheltered girls of that era could be. It will be Newland Archer's responsibility to awaken this young being, to take charge of her, to guard her. For Archer has told May that he 'cares' for her and as the novel opens Archer and May are about to announce their engagement--an event that is itself one of the ripples stirred by the arrival of the Countess.

How much does May understand? Is she as innocent and unaware as Newland believes? In one scene we see Archer pleading for a shorter engagement, an earlier marriage. "For a moment she remained motionless then she raised on him eyes of such despairing dearness that he half-released her waist from his hold....as they faced each other she seemed to grow in womanly stature and dignity. Both were silent for a moment, as if dismayed by the unforeseen trend of their words..."



There are so many layers of subtle enjoyment in Edith Wharton's novels. Prime for me are the delicate psychological insights, the gradual unfolding of characters and lives half glimpsed. The narrative structure also has a hidden quality; at times, amid the rich descriptions, an omniscient voice wiser than Newland's seems to peek out and whisper nearly inaudibly from behind enveloping velvet drapes. The ending, fusing secret narrative arcs, was surprising and, to me, very moving.

But there are other ways to appreciate The Age of Innocence. Like any marvelous BBC costume drama, the dresses, the sets, the locations are nothing short of spectacular. Wharton was herself a product of the world described: the gossip, the glittering yet boring nights at the opera, the exquisite gowns that while fashionable must never be ostentatiously in the very latest Paris style, but rather reserved, kept for a year or two wrapped in tissue paper before being seen.



Wharton draws every detail with a loving attention worthy of the best set directors; indeed she wrote a book on interior design so her lavishly accurate descriptions of marble mantelpieces and ormolu clocks are a special delight for those like myself who enjoy such things.



Then there are those surprising insights into 19th century life. Who knew women actually played lawn tennis in all those skirts? And corsets, for heavens sake! How did they manage?



Since I spent much of my career on Wall Street and watched with horror the unfolding credit crisis of 2007-2008, the nearly unlimited government bail-outs, the lack of shame, the complete absence of personal or corporate accountability, there was one more aspect of the novel that found me appreciating Wharton's Age of Innocence.

Towards the end of the book a bank fails and the banker is cast into deep social disgrace and exile. Not just because of the failure but for the unforgivable sin of continuing to take in money for a whole day after its failure was inevitable and "as many of its clients belonged to one or another of the ruling clans, [his] duplicity seemed doubly cynical." Wharton takes sharp note of the hypocrisy here. Still for Newland, "The idea of absolute financial probity as the first law of a gentleman's code was too deeply ingrained in him....unblemished honesty was the noblesse oblige of old financial New York."

We could use a hefty dose of such probity.

Cast of Characters: n  

nCountess Ellen Olenska........Mrs Symons by Anders Zorn
Newland Archer..........Georges Feydeau by Charles Carolus-Duran
May Welland................Sylvia Harrison by John Singer Sargent

n

Edith Wharton debería dar clases (si pudiera) de cómo se debe transformar una historia sencilla en una que adquiere tanta vida propia por la forma en que está contada, que la simpleza deja de importar. La edad de la inocencia no tendrá el argumento, no es una red intrincada de personajes, intereses y giros, pero compensa todo con una trama que se enreda y va fluyendo sola, casi sin que Wharton la empuje, hacia el final.

La historia está ambientada en la New York de 1870. Allí están los miembros de la aristocracia, esos que se quieren parecer a los europeos pero que no cesan de diferenciarse de ellos, armando sus costumbres y sancionando con el olvido a aquellos que no las respeten. Newland Archer es un joven abogado que está comprometido con May Welland, quien a la vez tiene una prima, Ellen Olenska, que vuelve a New York después de un turbulento matrimonio en Europa. Mientras la familia trata de convencerla de que no se divorcie de su marido y vuelva con él, Newland deberá convivir con algunos sentimientos que pensó que ya había enterrado con su pasado. Las mentiras, lo dicho y lo no dicho, la presión de la sociedad y de las familias serán determinantes.

Es predecible, lo sé. Casi todo el libro se debatirá en las idas y venidas de un hombre que está a punto de casarse y que ve una sombra cada vez que piensa en la palabra “matrimonio”. Y esto es, en parte, un pilar fundamental de la historia, ya que la voz narradora se encargará de desgranar muchas ideas sobre el matrimonio, las obligaciones de las personas que lo conforman y los conflictos. También critica a la sociedad neoyorquina con una ironía cruel que hasta me sonó vengativa. El círculo de gente respetable (hasta cierto punto…) y con poder es tan diminuto, que siempre se queda en el centro del blanco de las conversaciones que se dan en las reuniones. Eso le sucede a Ellen Olenska, que con sus intenciones de divorciarse, su manera de vestir y su pasado dudoso es un tema ineludible. No se lo merece: a lo largo de la historia este personaje demuestra tener un carácter admirable, además de pronunciar la mayoría de las frases geniales que se dicen en La edad de la inocencia.

Sin embargo, el protagonista es Newland. Me encantó como personaje masculino, sin importar que algunas actitudes hacia el final del libro sean un tanto reprochables.  No me gusta, por supuesto, que engañe a May con otra mujer. No es válido que ponga como excusa que Ellen le pidió que se casara con ella.  Newland aporta una perspectiva ceñida de la sociedad neoyorquina (a la cual él pertenece y debe padecer), en donde la familia de su novia es una de las voces más censuradoras de la misma. Él se debate entre lo establecido y lo que podría ser. Se nota la tensión que vive cuando trata de defender lo indefendible mientras los demás señalan con el dedo y lo meten en compromisos como convencer a Ellen de que no se divorcie porque está mal visto. No es lo único que va a complicar a Newland en el libro, pero en esos lugares surge la riqueza del personaje y me gustó mucho cómo lo manejó Wharton. Hay muchos otros personajes que se destacan por estar de un lado o del otro, como Mrs. Welland y Beaufort, por evocar a dos que serían el agua y el aceite. Y luego está May, la novia en cuestión, que provoca frialdad con su “no opinión” de los asuntos, las descripciones desfavorables de la narración y los pensamientos de Newland. Ella tampoco puede eludir los comentarios malintencionados de algunas personas, pero no despierta simpatía como para defenderla. Y al final, tienen un poco de razón. Lo único que pude admirar de ella fue su entereza.

Está bien narrado, con una voz cargada de flechas contra los “intachables” de New York y sus reglas ridículas que afectan la vestimenta, las visitas a las casas, la Ópera y hasta las bodas. Tanto en esta novela como en algunos cuentos que leí, Wharton apunta a temas de los cuales todavía no se hablaba demasiado o causaban cierta incomodidad, a pesar de situarse ya en el siglo XX. Aunque este libro no presenta ninguna resistencia en el estilo, particularmente me sentí perdida en los primeros capítulos que establecen las relaciones de parentesco de unos cuantos personajes. Como usan doble apellido, algunas parejas me hicieron una maraña en la cabeza, pero fue temporal (por suerte). Más allá de eso, La edad de la inocencia se deja leer y sorprende con escenas muy bonitas y memorables entre los protagonistas. El final es agridulce y esperaba que fuera así por el curso de los acontecimientos.

Disfruté mucho este libro y lo recomendaría a personas que estén enemistadas con el género romántico, como yo. Cuenta una historia de amor pero no la exprime y no la arruina con melodramas innecesarios y agregados de azúcar en proporciones temibles. Trasciende el género. Hay amor y pasión, pero no como uno se lo imagina al leer las contratapas de ciertos libros. Esto es más del estilo de Jane Austen, en donde una relación o un matrimonio que está por concertarse termina sacando a la luz otras cosas, como la hipocresía de ciertos personajes y los convencionalismos endebles. Wharton tiene un estilo propio, muy sencillo pero sin fisuras, y se vuelve una autora muy interesante para ver. No me había convencido con los cuentos, pero esta novela sacó a relucir lo mejor de ella, evidentemente.

Reseña en Clásico desorden

En realidad 3'5.
No puedo decir que la novela no me haya gustado. Pero partía de expectativas muy altas. Lo primero que leí de Wharton fue Ethan Frome, relato que me encantó y que durante su lectura me atrapó por completo. Y esperaba algo así de su obra más conocida,...
La Edad de la Inocencia no me ha enganchado tanto, pero es una buena novela; hace un retrato y critica de la sociedad neoyorquina del último cuarto del siglo XIX. Ha habido momentos en los que realmente estaba en tensión con lo que pasaría o podría pasar. Los personajes están muy bien construidos.
Mi consejo es que si no habéis leído nada de ella, empecéis por aquí y dejéis para más adelante a Ethan Frome. Me volveré a encontrar con Edith más adelante, estoy segura de ello.

7.5/10

Edith Wharton may turn out to be my own Countess Olenska. Who wouldn't want to fight for such a Lady ... such a charming, chimerical ... quixotic ... woman of one's dreams. One has every reason to take up her cause, to fall in love with her, to be devoted to her forever; and yet, one leaves her at the train station, without too much regret, except to linger every now and then over the scent of her perfume, over the fragrance of "might-have-beens" -- and get on with the business of living one's life without her.

I am as taken with Wharton as Newland Archer was with Ellen Olenska. Dash-darn-it, the lady has form. She has style. But, it's far too easy to stifle a polite yawn as she chatters away in your ear at the opera house and pick up the glasses to gaze about the house, looking for something just a tiny bit more interesting --with just a teeny bit more substance.

Without a doubt, Wharton captures the late Victorian effervescence of polite New Yawk society: the foibles, the shallowness, the fatuity, the ignorance, the brainlessness. The money. Let's not forget the filthy lucre that is wasted by the bushelful. Shall I go on? Oh, the banality of life lived in the new-yawk style at the end of the 19th century.

Had this been offered as a journal of Wharton's life, of a young girl's memories, I might have rated it a few notches higher. But, for me, fiction is meant to have a larger-than-life depth of perception to it, and this fails, on a fundamental level. We only scratch the surface of lives in Wharton. Perhaps that is "supposed to be" her point, but I don't think so. From everything I've read about her now, it seems this is meant to be an exposé, but to me, the lady is still wearing all her seven veils by the end of it. It is only a mirror.

Mirrors are great things, especially when they reflect the early evening candlelight of the ladies entering the ballroom, bejewelled and bedazzling. But mirrors don't do much for the soul. I don't detect any signs at all of la grande amour of which so many of my friends raved, and swooned. This is not Eloise and Abelard. This is more like Archie and Veronica.

Anna Karenina she is not: I can fathom more about Anna in 10 pages of Tolstoy, than I can about Ellen in 300+ pages. In fact, I find all the characters rather amorphous and ambiguous. No one solidifies in front of me, for me to grasp their essence or motivation. The only one who really comes into form, in a manner of speaking, is Mrs. Mingott because she is fat.

My goodness but Mingott is rotund! She is bulging and bulking. She is a positive butterball. What struck me about this is that Wharton may have been trying to paint "the Entitled Matriarch of Spiders-That-Ate-New-York" indecency, but all she conveys to me is that she has serious issues with fat people. At first it was slightly amusing; a few good chuckles, and then a laugh; but ultimately it became downright annoying to hear, ad nauseam her repeated digs about multiple chins and fat, dimpled fingers and rolling folds and roly-polies and porcine ... and corpulent ... and. Oh, Ms. Wharton, I began to wonder if you hadn't had a serious Eating Disorder in your young life!

But you see ... this sideshow makes you lose your train of thought -- positively derails you from anything happening on Center Stage, which is nonetheless rather ephemeral, so that your mind wanders to more solid writers and how they might have painted the picture.

Wharton is as reflective of her society as Jane Austen was of hers; but with Austen, I like to slow down the carriage, and even stop and linger over the human landscape; with Wharton I don't mind at all if the train zips through the station without even slowing down since her landscape is best viewed on the fly. To linger too long would spoil the effect.

I read this in Serial Reader, but I chose it because I wanted to try the LitWit podcast, and knew they were talking about Pulitzer winners from the 1920s. I'd only read Ethan Frome by Edith Wharton, and found I liked it so much more as a woman in her 30s than I did when I originally read it for school. So this was a good one to read.

Edith Wharton apparently wrote this as a tribute to the end of the America that disappeared, the class system, the endlessly wealthy, the old society days. It starts out feeling like it will just be a diorama of high society but ends up being a quite intense story of love vs. "society-appropriate" marriage.

And then there are lines that make me think of 21st century YA novels, but then I realized that it also harkens back to E.M. Forster and similar authors. Lines like this:
“Each time you happen to me all over again.”

Worth reading, probably more there than I'm giving credit to, and I'm ready for another Wharton now!

Scandal and rebellion, or rather avoidance/denial of scandal and rebellion in snobbish New York society. Witty and perceptive; Wildean context and style.

“The real loneliness is living among all these kind people who only ask one to pretend!” 

This is what is at the heart of this beautifully written novel about two people trapped by the conventions of their world. Both are aware of the futility and Archer in particular lacks the courage to completely leave the world he knows.

May is an interesting character, isn't she? Sweet and complacent at first she certainly reveals more depth when she is fighting for her happiness.

The ending for me is a tragic one, where Archer has completely lost the little courage he had and will not make an attempt for happiness.

My favourite book of 2015 (so far!) and most highly recommended.